John Lescroart - Treasure Hunt

Her face became contemplative. “All told, let’s see, maybe twenty. Do you want just the professionals, or everybody? Some of us had staff with us.”

“I think just the professionals, unless you think one of the staff might have had issues with Nancy Neshek.”

“Oh, of course,” she said. She sat straighter abruptly, suddenly struggling against a wave of emotion. “This is about her, isn’t it? Was that the night she was killed?”

“Yes.”

“So after the meeting?”

“That’s right. We’re going on that assumption, although it could have been the next morning. She was down close to room temperature when she was discovered, so it had to be fifteen, maybe twenty hours, before…”

But Hess was holding her one hand, putting the other over her mouth. “Please,” she said. “I don’t mean to be squeamish, but…” She exhaled heavily, closed her eyes, came back to him. “These details. I go a bit light- headed when I think about the reality of them. Of Nancy. I mean, the person who was Nancy. To think of her as lying there at room temperature.” She shook her head from side to side. “I’m sorry.”

Mickey waved it off. “It’s all right. I shouldn’t have been so descriptive. But the point is we’re trying to eliminate individuals who the police won’t have to interrogate at all, and the best way to do that is establish who had alibis and who didn’t.”

“Alibis for what? The night Nancy was killed?”

“Right. As I say, in most cases, just a formality.”

The confusion on Hess’s face gave way to a frown. “But at the service yesterday, your Mr. Hunt said they were assuming that the same person killed Dominic and Nancy.”

“That’s right.”

“But that means… you think… I mean, on any level, do you think I might have done these things? That there’s even the remotest possibility?”

“No, ma’am. It only means that if you can account for your time when either one of the murders was committed, you’re automatically and completely eliminated, probably from both of them. Have the police asked you about the night of Dominic’s death yet?”

A hand pressing into the scalp at her hairline, she was still shaking her head slowly back and forth. She seemed about to break into tears. “I can’t believe this.” Taking a breath, getting herself together, she finally looked across her desk at Mickey. “I don’t know about the individual days, one by one. But I have a twelve- year-old boy, Gary. He’s a special needs child. He’s just started seventh grade and he’s not having an easy time of it. With his medical bills and the economy being what it is, I had to let go one of his tutors, so we’ve been doing homework together every school night for at least the past three weeks. A lot of homework. Every single school night, Sunday through Thursday, and even a little bit on the weekends. I’ve also had to cut his caregiver back to half-time. But I’m sorry. This isn’t about me. You can ask Gary if you need to. He’ll remember. I know he’ll remember. It’s been grueling. He won’t need any reminding.”

“So you went to this meeting on Monday night?”

“I did. But it was over at eight or so, and I was home by eight-thirty. Not much later, I’m sure. Where does Nancy live? Do you know?”

“Not exactly,” Mickey said. “Somewhere out in Seacliff.”

Hess spread her hands, palms out. “I live on lower Telegraph Hill. I would have had to drive pretty fast.”

“Well, there you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She put both hands over her mouth for a moment, then lowered them so she could speak. “It’s just that I’m so lost over this. Over everything that’s happened. It just doesn’t seem possible.”

“I know,” Mickey said. “It’s hard.” He placed his coffee cup back on the desk. “While I’m here, could I trouble you to write me down a list of everybody you remember at that Monday meeting? It looks like I’m going to have a long day.”

She sighed. “All right. I’ll try to do that. But I can’t really believe it was anybody who was there. I mean, everybody loved Nancy.”

“I’m sure they did,” Mickey said. “I’m sure they did.”

Armed with his list of names, many with phone numbers, of those who’d been at the meeting, Mickey sat with Hess’s permission in one of the free cubicles in the large open staff room at the Ortega campus. Making conversation while she’d drawn up the list, he’d let drop that he didn’t have a telephone, and she’d offered him the use of theirs. Save him a lot of driving. Beyond the five he’d heard of-Turner, Hess, Neshek, and the two Sanchezes-there were seven other nonprofit professional executives.

His first call wasn’t to any of these people, though, but back to his own apartment, where he listened to the answering machine. Next he called the office and got his sister on the first ring. “Any word on Jim?” he asked.

“Still nothing.”

“Maybe I should drop by the apartment.”

“He’d pick up the phone, I think, if he were there. And I’ve called about ten times already.”

“Yeah. I just did too.”

“I’m really worried here, Mick.”

“I know. Me too.” He took a beat. “Is Wyatt still there? You think he’ll talk to me if I told you it might be important?”

“He’ll talk to you, Mick. You got something important?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. You tell me.”

He told her.

Hunt listened on the telephone as Mickey gave him the play- by-play on his interview with Lorraine Hess, such as it was. Down to the cute Battalion-member who delivered the custard-filled doughnuts, through her essentially rock-solid alibis and her son Gary’s homework load. By the time Mickey relayed Hess’s degree of her upset about being considered any kind of a suspect, her question about where Neshek had lived, and her joking comment about how fast she had to drive from there to Telegraph Hill after the Monday-night meeting, Hunt knew that Mickey was stalling and interrupted. “Not that all this isn’t fascinating, Mick, but Tam said you had something important.”

Mickey had already practiced the casual tone he wanted to use when he’d told Tamara, and now he said, “Well, I don’t really know how important it is, but I ran into Al Carter down here and asked him if he’d seen Jim at the memorial yesterday, and he told me he had. When he took Alicia outside after Mrs. Como-”

“I know all about this,” Hunt said.

“Well, maybe not.” He hesitated. “Carter told me that Alicia offered to drive Jim back home to our place.”

After some seconds of silence, Mickey said, “Wyatt? You still there?”

“You’re saying that your Alicia drove Jim home?”

“She offered to anyway. I don’t know if she actually did.”

“Have you asked her about this?”

“Then I’d know, wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t be a wiseass. Have you talked to her or not?”

“No.”

Hunt let out a breath. “You’re sure?”

Mickey didn’t respond.

More silence.

“Wyatt?”

“I’m thinking. You haven’t talked to her about anything since we left her this morning, including this?”

“I just said I didn’t.”

“I know you did. I didn’t want there to be a misunderstanding between us again.”

“Again?”

“You know. Like the last time I told you I didn’t think you should be hanging out too much with her, just to be on the safe side since she was a potential murder suspect, and the next thing you’d moved with her into my place. That kind of misunderstanding.”

“I haven’t talked to her. I called you.”

“Yes, you did. Good move. Do you think you’ll be able to keep yourself from talking to her until I get a chance to?”